A VERY OLD MAN
TIME has filched all from him but some scant show of breath,
And that but waits the casual pillaging of Death.
THE SYMPHONY
ONE crash shivers the world down to its roots,
And then the music moulds anew all things:
Strange moons sail in the laughter of the flutes;
New suns blaze through the clamour of the strings.
OF A LADY
I NEVER see her walk into a room
But what I think: Ah, now the fiddling’s done;
The world’s brave footlights leap to stab the gloom;
The curtain lifts, and see—the play’s begun.
THE END
| Typographical error corrected by the etext transcriber: |
|---|
| and and went out of the house=> and went out of the house {pg 20} |